The Fellowship of Sisters
by MrsCharmWolf
Summary: How well do you know the War of the Rings? What happened in those moments that Tolkien never expounded upon? Get ready for a new take on this classic tale. This is the first in a three part series exploring the events of the War of the Ring and introducing four animated princesses who help reshape the outcome of Middle Earth. Slight AU with multiple romantic pairings, not MarySue.
1. Prologue

[Please read the Author's Note to follow at the end of this chapter.]

* * *

**Prologue**

The night was unusually calm, and the stars adorned the heavens, brightly twinkling in a way that belied the war and destruction that their light shone upon. A lone captain stood among the ruins of a once great city, not as a guard or night watchman, but as a man pondering deep inner thoughts. Again the dream had come:

_ Seek for the Sword that was broken:_

_In Imladris it dwells;_

_There shall be counsels taken_

_Stronger than Morgul-spells._

_There shall be shown a token_

_That Doom is near at hand,_

_For Isildur's Bane shall waken,_

_And the Halfling forth shall stand._

This time however he did not awake with a start, and so heard more of the haunting words:

Princesses four shall come by spell:

One born in a warrior's hall,

Two from the fjord of Arendelle,

Another, a prison made of stone.

Their task shall fill the empty throne.

Ainu binds them to the fate of all,

And ere the deed is done,

The Doom of all may yet be overcome.

Where before the words had only confounded his mind, this new part gripped his very heart — with fear or curious yearning, he knew not. He had yet to speak of this, for whom would believe the truth of such a dream. His father surely would deem it a folly. Perhaps Boromir might consider it an omen, a warning.

As the stars began to fade into the pale light of a new day, movement drew the Captain's gaze. Swiftly drawing a long dagger from his boot, he moved with a panther-like stealth towards it. As he came closer, the form took the shape of a small figure, lying prone on a broken slab of crumbling marble. Seeing no more movement, he pause, pondering if to move forward and inspect the body.

Returning his dagger to its place, and drawing himself up to his full height, Faramir, younger son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, gently turned over the figure. The first thing he notices was the hair, much too long for any man, and the figure was so slight, almost like a doll. Clearing away tendrils from her face, he was struck with a sense of awe. Her features where so pure, etherial even, but as he gently raised her head, he felt a roundness to her ears. How could one of such beauty be not of the Eldar?

Ascertaining that her unconsciousness was not due to some physical wound, he gathered the young maiden in his arms, hurriedly moving to his tent, cautious not to jostle her body too much. Once she was carefully laid upon his meager cot and bed-roll, he set out for his brother's tent, not far, hoping that he had not yet arisen and taken counsel with the other officers and rangers of their battered company.

Boromir was in-fact awake when he arrived, but his brother seemed to be brooding over a matter of import and did not notice Faramir's entrance.

"Brother."

Turning to face his younger sibling, Boromir gave a drawn smile that held no joy.

"Is it time yet for counsel?"

"Not yet. There is another matter I must speak with you about. One of great importance."

Boromir stood and approached his brother, his face shifting from brother to commander at the tone in Faramir's voice.

"It is a delicate matter of which I must ask your help with. Last night I had a dream, a strange dream which was not unfamiliar to me. The words of the dream unsettled my mind, and when I awoke, I wandered for a time, contemplating their meaning."

His brother looked confused. "What use am I in the divining of dreams?"

Faramir shook his head, "It is not the dream that I seek your counsel on, but rather what the dream lead me to discover. As I wandered, I came across a lone figure unconscious among the ruins, and have sequestered them in my tent, while I beg your help."

"Whom is this person?"

"I know not. But brother… they are like no one I have ever seen."

"What manner of being are they?"

"By all appearances… she is a mortal woman—"

"A woman, here on the battlefield ruins of a long abandoned city?"

"It is a mystery to me as well, which is why I have come to you for guidance. What shall we do with her?"

Boromir was silent for a time, pacing as he thought. Finally he spoke, not as a brother, but as a leader. "Take me to her."

Faramir's tent was not far, and with the dawn not yet cresting the plains, the men had not yet arisen. Boromir entered first, and stopped short upon the sight of her. His fascination was not as strongly felt as his brother at the sight of the woman before them, but it was enough to give him pause.

"How can she be untouched? In this of all places?"

"I know not." Faramir went to her side, and took her delicate hand in his more calloused grip. She shifted in her torpid slumber, curling her frame closer to his, as a moth drawn to a warm flame.

"Whatever fate brought her here, it seems that it was meant for you to find her." His brother said, in a partially joking manner. Faramir tensed at the words, reminded again of his dream.

"Fate it may be indeed, brother. I feel she is important somehow."

"Do you speak as one beguiled by a pretty maiden, brother?"

Faramir turned sharply, displeasure etched into his fair features.

"I feel she is linked with the words from my dream."

Boromir did not scoff at this, rather asked for Faramir to recount the dream. After the haunting words were told, both brothers turned their eyes unconsciously towards the figure before them.

"I would in the past, brother, have said that such beliefs were for old men and naïve maids. Yet there is a ring of truth in it."

Faramir nodded, thinking of what the second verse could mean.

"Whom's counsel can we seek on this matter? Surely not father, for he would either seek to use her, if she is fated to restore our realm, or imprison her should she be found lacking in use."

Boromir said nothing to the remarks his brother made of their father, the Steward, knowing he was correct, however much he wishes not to acknowledge it.

"Perhaps Mithrandir? He is learned in lore and spell-craft."

"But how shall we bring her to Minas Tirith, unknown to our father?"

Boromir pause, then gave a small smirk. "Father would not notice a wounded soldier, when we his sons return unharmed. There must be a set of armour that will conceal her enough to pass unnoticed on a cart."

Faramir glanced back at her prone form and then nodded. As quickly and quietly as two warriors could, the brothers gathered together the pieces for the necessary disguise. Once everything was within Faramir's tent, there was a moment of hesitation. Compared to the task ahead, gathering battle armor in secret was child's play.

"Well brother, since you found her, I think you should be the one to dress her. You have a gentler hand than I."

"Don't you mean a purer heart and mind?"

Boromir laughed, "You know me too well brother. I shall leave you to this task, for there will be less suspicion with only one of us unaccounted for. I will begin the preparation for the return to the citadel."

The young captain gazed into the peaceful face of the woman laid out upon his bed-roll. Her small hands clutched at his cloak which he had lain over her, to shield her some from the chill of morning. Without startling movements, Faramir maneuvered her to a position where she lay half in his arms, with her lower body still on the bed. His hand gently brushed her cheek, and she nuzzled towards his touch. In that moment, Faramir felt something he had not felt for another woman, since the passing of his mother. A desire to care for and protect.

Dressing her in the livery of one of the men under his personal command, Faramir took notice of two things about her. Firstly, she wore no type of footwear, yet her feet looked clean and had none of the cuts or wounds that would be expected if a person was to walk barefoot through a destroyed city. He spent a few minutes turning them over, in his hands. They were so tiny and perfect.

Shaking that thought from his head, Faramir began to assess the next issue of this charade — her hair. The blonde locks shone brightly, glistening like clear water on a bright summer day. The only way to hide it was to plait it intricately enough to manageably conceal it in the armour. He had not braided another person's hair, since his mother. She had let him come to her when he awoke from a bad dream, and would sing to him, and let him brush and plait her hair.

It took close to a half hour to completely plait the woman's hair and hid it within the hood of the cloak he had wrapped around her. It relaxed him, once he remember how to twist and shape hair into a passable form. When that was done, Faramir just sat beside her and waited for his brother to return. Seeing her in the livery of a Ranger of Ithilian, did not diminish her beauty, but rather accented her willowy form and etherial looks, and his heart beat just a bit faster as he continued to gaze upon her.

Shaking the pleasant images of her from his head, he stood and paced closer to the entrance of his small tent. _Where was Boromir?_

No sooner has Faramir thought it, than the flap to his tent was pushed back and in came said brother, bringing with him a water skin and loaf of bread.

"I see you had this situation well in hand, little brother." Boromir smirked, as his eyes glanced over the young woman's form in Ranger garb.

Faramir felt a twinge of anger rise up in him, something he had never felt towards his brother. Why would a simple quip and glance at a woman would cause such a reaction? Taking a breath, he took what his brother offered and sat down on the cot, facing outward.

Boromir did not see the quick change in his brother, and continued talking.

"The cart is all prepared and we ride for Minas Tirith within the hour. I suggest we hurry before the rest of the company is assembled."

Faramir nodded and hurriedly finished his small meal. Together they were able to maneuver her into the makeshift wounded cart, and it was decided that Faramir would ride close to the cart, while Boromir lead their company. Denethor would find no suspicion with this, since all his focus would be upon the triumph of his eldest son. To the Rangers under Faramir's company, it had been circulated that this soldier had saved Faramir's life, hence his interest in their safe return. No questions would be ask, for all the men where loyal to the Captains of the White City.

The joinery back to Minas Tirith was uneventful. The sky was clear and the clouds billowed; the shadow of Mordor was not so strongly felt over the land of Gondor that day. It was nightfall when the company of men reached the main gates to the citadel, and they passed through the lower gates with very little attention. Faramir directed the men to take the cart carrying the disguised woman, as well as the other wounded carts to the Houses of Healing, in the sixth level of the city.

Once his horse was given into the care of the stable-hands, Faramir sought out Ioreth, for she had on more than one occasion helped in tending to his wounds and other ailments when his father has not dained to acknowledge the suffering of his younger son. She was working in the main garden, tending to the various herbs and plants used in the healing of patients.

Since she was along, Faramir quickly explained to her the sudden appearance of the mysterious woman, and his subterfuge in getting her into the city.

"What would you have me do with such a woman?" Ioreth exclaimed with mock indignation.

"I simply wish for you to help me hid her in my mother's rooms. I do not wish for my father to trap her in his schemes for power and control."

"I will do as you ask."

Faramir thanked her heartily, glad that the woman would be safe from his father. He now headed to his quarters, on the side of the palace which his father never ventured. He had specifically asked for her to be brought to his mother's room, for that was one of the few places in the city that no one, not even Denethor, Steward of Gondor ventured. His rooms where situated beside his mother's, with door that linked the two.

Once he had stripped himself of this dust-laden armour and robes, Faramir sent word to his brother to meet him, which he was sure it would be several hours yet before his brother would arrive. Their father would have much to discuss with his favored son.

A soft knocking came from the door that joined his room with the next, and he hurried over to it, lifting the tapestry that mostly concealed it from common view.

The rooms where that same as the day his mother had died, Faramir maintained them himself, keeping dust and age from tarnishing the last piece of the woman he had lost. Upon the bed, _she_ lay. Moving the thick curtains from the windows and gently opening them, Faramir busied himself with readying the room for its first inhabitant in over two decades.

He lit no candle, for the stars again where not veiled again this night. Their soft light flooded the room, bathing her delicate features. For a moment, Faramir stood in awe of her, his heart quickening within his chest. There was no chair beside the bed, and so he sat down gently on the edge, hesitantly reaching out to clasp one of her hands in his.

It was then that he noticed Ioreth had stripped her of the Ranger garb that she had been dressed in. Now she wore a simple blue shift, and her hair lay unbound, fanned out around her to form a halo of liquid gold. Like earlier, she moved closer to him, sensing his presence even in her deep slumber.

And so Faramir, younger son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, watched over his fair maiden, well into the early hours of the morn'.

It was midmorning when Boromir knocked on the door to his brother's chambers for the third time. It was unusual for his brother to be abed this late, even after a long day of fighting. Finding the door unlock, he entered to find an empty room. Glancing around, he notice that tapestry that cover the entrance to their mother's rooms was pulled back and the door slightly afar.

Smiling lightly, he made his way for the first time in year, into his mother's chambers. The sight that greeted him cause his smile to spread into a wide smirk. Upon the bed, lay Faramir with his maiden cuddling close to him, his arms wrapped protectively around her — both sound asleep. He stood there for several moment, taking in this innocent picture of happiness. Boromir would never let his younger brother live this down.

Clearing his throat just loudly enough to awaken the Ranger, he crossed his arms and assumed a stern posture. At first when Faramir opened his eyes, he seemed confused. This was not his room, _and why was his brother standing over him?_ Moving to sit up, his hands come in contact with something that was warm, and firm. Looking down sharply, he saw that this was not intact his room. Nor his bed.

He flushed and hastily removed himself from the bed, and the surprisingly firm clasp of _her_. A glance at Boromir revealed his brother shaking in mirth. He was glad someone was finding this funny, although he was sure he would never hear the end of it.

Boromir motioned for his brother to join him back in the other room, and with one last look, after straightening the bedclothes snuggly around the sleeping maiden, Faramir left his mothe— _her_ chambers.

Once inside his chambers, Faramir set out in readying himself for what was left of the morning. Anything to avoid the smug gaze of his brother. But alas, there is only so much on can do to involving the robbing of ones body.

In a futile attempt at misdirection Faramir asked his brother of the meeting with their father the previous day.

"Father was as intense as ever. First he boasted to the lords of the might of his son, Boromir. Then he wished to know every detail of our stand, and then continued it by planning our next incursion to maintain the front at Osgiliath, with re-enforcements patrolling the surrounding lands of Ithilian. I tried to mention that your suggestions regarding the places which would need the most troops, since they are your men, but he was only concerned with the front and our hold over the river Anduin."

"He is the Steward…"

"And you are as much his son as I am! I may be Captain of the Guard, but you are so much more than simple Captain of the Rangers. The council respects and listens to you, and your political skills rival that of Father's. You are learned in the histories and laws of our land and you command the respect of all who serve under you."

Faramir was taken aback by his brother fervent defense of his worth and character. The meeting with the Steward must have been harsher than Boromir let on to him.

"Thank you, brother."

For a few minutes both men where silent, unsure of where to go from this point in their conversation. At last, Boromir sighed and sank down into one of the chairs in his brother's study.

"Perhaps we should be discussing a more pleasant subject, such as your rather fetching bed fellow…"

No sooner where the words out of Boromir's mouth, than he instantly regretted them. Hurt and anger where visible on his brother's feature.

"I'm sorry brother, I meant it in jest only."

Faramir took a second to clear his feature, walking to the terrace the allowed him a view of the citadel below, and the lands of Gondor beyond that.

Boromir joined his brother after a few moments, their gazes resting on the darkness across the plains, the darkness of Mordor.

"I know you care for her. She needs a protector, a champion, and there is no one I feel who would be better in all the realms for this task than you, Faramir."

"I don't even know her name."

"A name does not change how you feel about her, does it? I see how you have looked at her, don't deny it. Even I can sense she is special, and I am not always the most sensitive of men."

Faramir chuckled. "Nay brother, sensitive no. But popular among the ladies of the court, you are."

"If by popular, you mean pleasing to the eyes, accomplished in battle, and eldest son of a power man — that is all these so called ladies prize in a man. I would sooner court an orc then dain to connect myself to such shrewd and politically minded women."

Faramir knew all too well that under their beautiful facade, most of the daughters, wives and widows of the Gondorian nobles hid a darker, power hungry side. Growing up as the elder son, Boromir had been subjected to this more than himself, for the lesser favored son of the Steward was more likely to be found in the hall of ancient manuscripts and records, than attending social functions organized by his father.

Boromir bore the brunt of such attention well, for he focused on his duties to the realm, serving as chief protector and loyal soldier. Thus he was more occupied with war than love.

Neither men where of an age where marriage was chiefly expected, and with Gondor at the front of Sauron's oppression of the free peoples of Middle Earth, a wife and warm bed seems laughable as high priorities. Growing up, they had pictured the ideal wife as someone like their mother — strong in self, independent, loyal and very loving.

Boromir silently wished his brother would find the happiness he deserved, in the woman fate had brought to him. A happiness that he himself expected to never find. No, he would die a warriors death, in battle defending those under his protection till his last breath.

A knock at the chamber door signaled the arrival of a servant, probably with the mid-day meal. Food would do Faramir good, ground his throughs and mind, while strengthening his body. Boromir took his brother by the shoulder and led him towards the tray that had been lain on his small desk. Faramir ate in silence, still distracted by a thought in his mind. _Would she be any different? Will she need him and care for him, as he already needed and cared for her?_

Faramir thought he was being too whimsical in this, how could he have come to care for her in such a short amount of time, and yet still not know her. It wasn't rational, or even explainable, but her sudden appearance had captivated him to the core. There was a muffled noise, that seemed out of place. It took him a moment to realize it had not come from his chamber, nor from outside in the hall, or even from the city.

His eyes shot to the door, _her_ door. Before his mind even registered it, his body moved with a purpose through the hidden door, and into the next room. His breath stopped short at the vision before him.

She was half sitting up, her arms stretched high over her head, eyes closed with a look of perfect contentment. Every so slowly she opened her eyes, her gaze holding Faramir rooted to her spot.

Her face held no fear or shock, only confusion — as if she has not yet figured out where she was.

"You are a nice dream." Her voice was soft, still laden with sleep. Closing her eyes firmly shut, she concentrated as if she was trying to force herself awake. He couldn't help but notice how adorable it was when her nose scrunched up, too amused yet to speak.

She opened her eyes again after a moment. Confusion spread over her features and clouded her bright green eyes. Stepping forward smoothly, Faramir sat down next to her on the bed, a respectful distance for her own comfort.

"I can assure you, fair maiden, I am no dream." _Rather it is you who is the vision._ His inner thoughts would be the death of him in regard to her — he just knew it.

They stared at each other intently for a moment, then fear sparked in her eyes, and she shrank back from him.

"You have to go, Mother will be here soon. Really you must go." She began to frantically look around, as if expecting this person, her mother to swoop in like a fearsome bird of prey, to devour him.

It touched him that in her confusion, it was his safety she was concerned more for, not herself. What confused him was her mention that the person she feared was her mother.

"I can assure you, my lady, that your mother cannot harm anyone here."

"No, you don't understand, she has powers… if she finds you here, I don't know what will happen."

_Powers._ Faramir paused for a moment at the mention. _Could these powers be the reason for her sudden and mysterious appearance?_

Before Faramir could continue his reassurances that all would in fact be well, Boromir stepped through the door. He assumed that his brother had been listening from the doorway, giving him space and time with the newly awakened woman. She was so fixed on him, that Boromir's voice made her jump and cower behind Faramir's frame.

"Your mother is not here."

The woman looked at the new addition to the room in shock, and then slowly, the fear gave way to a tentative confusion. Looking around the room again, her face showed the shift in her mind, as it slowly registered that this was in-fact, not her room.

"Where am I?" She was watching Faramir intently, shifting minutely closer to him.

"You are in the city of Minas Tirith, of the realm of Gondor." She showed no recognition of the name of the city nor the realm. Faramir glanced to his brother quickly before continuing. "You where discovered unconscious in the ruins of Osgiliath, on the western bank of the river Anduin.

Still she did not react; instead she seemed to be more fixated on studying his features — as if she has never seen a man before.

"Who are you?" She finally said.

"Faramir, son of Denethor. This is my older brother, Boromir."

She smiled at him, and so breathtaking was it that for a moment he simply stared at her, transfixed. Thankfully Boromir perceived his mental paralysis, and so asked the question Faramir has been so direly wishing to know since he first laid eyes on her.

"Might we know your name, and where you hail from, in return, lady?"

Blinking, she tore her eyes from Faramir' intense gaze, blushing slightly. "Rapunzel."

[Theme: Where There's Light, There's Hope — The London Studio Orchestra (The Two Towers)]

It was evening, and Rapunzel was leaning over the balcony rail of the room she had been staying in for the past two days. It was a beautiful room, much larger than her own, but then living in a tower was small, compared to the city that stretched out below her. Seven levels, Faramir had told her, of homes and families. So many people, surrounding her, yet here she was, safely hidden from them all.

Figures milled around the pathway below her, a man and woman, walking a dog. To be free was something she had always longed for, but now, in this strange new place, it was more a comfort to her to be incased in a stone room.

The two men, whom she was slowly getting acquainted with where very polite and well mannered. The younger one, Faramir was more than willing to talk with her about the city, and it's people… his people. Boromir, was more of a silent type, it took several tries for her to engage him in any conversation. But she like them, well enough, for the first people that she had ever know outside of her mother.

Her hair was free flowing today, the wind catching some of it and blowing over the balcony ledge. The sun had come out today, bring with it a warmth that reminded her of home, yet her heart did not ache for it as she thought she would.

Footsteps behind her alerted her to the presence of either brother. She did not move, simply turned her gaze to the mountains across the great expanse of land outside the gates of the city. They where dark and storm clouds seemed to grow from there, as if seeking to envelope the rest of the sky in a dark swell of depression. Her body shivered at the thought of such a world, and then warmth enveloped her as a thick cloak was wrapped around her shoulders.

Smiling to herself at the gesture, Rapunzel turned to face her kind benefactor — Faramir.

"You should not be out without a cloak on, my lady, no matter if the sun is shinning… nor shoes for that matter."

The last part of his little speech was teasing, for he knew she was not yet used to wearing such things.

"Then I am in your debt, my lord, for you have taken good care of me." Rapunzel had learned that teasing lightly was acceptable with the younger of the brothers, and it was now something she did most frequently, though more often than not, she ended up blushing at her words.

Gazing at the cloak wrapped around her, she was amazed to find it very elegant and made for a womanly form. It was a dark blue, with silver stars sewn into it. Faramir must have noticed her expression of awe, and thus sheepishly explained.

"The cloak belonged to my mother, and finds no use folded away in a chest, when you have none." He paused and for a second, Rapunzel saw something flicker in his eyes which she could not name. "It looks very well upon you."

"This was your mothers?"

"Aye, a gift from her father, upon the birth of my brother."

"I cannot accept such a gift." She had begun to remove the cloak from her shoulders, when Faramir clasped hers firmly, thus stilling her movements.

"She would not want such things to go to waste unused and gather dust when there is a maiden in need. She was very kind, to all around her. It is no trouble. Please, keep it."

His words warmed her heart, yet she did not know why. This man, her friend, cause such reactions in her, that she did not know what to make of it. But it was pleasant indeed that he cared for her.

"What has detained you so long this day, for it is past the mid-day mark, and you are late in your arrival."

They both moved into the room, situating themselves unto a sofa with a table before it, laden with food and drink.

"My father requested the presence of myself and my brother. It has been decided that Boromir will travel to Imladris to seek out the meaning of our shared dream. Boromir is making preparations as we speak, and he will be leaving within the fortnight."

"How long will he be gone?"

"Who is to say, it is several weeks ride to the Hidden city of the Elves, perhaps even a few months."

"Will you miss him greatly?"

Having never had siblings or even other people around, Rapunzel was always curious of the interactions between the brothers.

Faramir nodded his head. "I shall fear for him, for the way is perilous in these troubling times. It should be I that go, for Boromir is the better Captain and commander. But father wishes to send only the best, his best—"

"Don't put yourself down, your father simply is a proud man, who sees himself more strongly in one son, than in another."

Faramir gave a weak smile and turned away.

"With your brother gone, will you be devoting more of your time to military matters, and forget about me?"

_I could never forget about you._ "I would make sure that my duties would allow me time to have our afternoon lunch-ins and evening conversations. On that matter, in fact, I have somewhere I would like to take you, but we must wait 'til this evening."

A knock on the door broke the precious moment that had been forming between the two, and then Boromir entered the chamber, a grave expression on his face. He walked heavily into the room, and sank exhausted into the empty chair by the sofa. Both parties expressed pleasantries and waited for the third to respond in kind.

"Father wishes to see you, I have tried to talk to him and lessen his anger, but you must go to him as you can." Both Faramir and Rapunzel immediately tensed, thinking the worse, but Boromir's next words alleviated that emotion.

"I have told him not of her; nor the second half of the dream, which I remind you, I never had."

Faramir looked a little sheepish at his brothers consternation, his brother had never broken his confidence before, why judge him now?

Both had explained to Rapunzel, the dream that first Faramir, and then later Boromir, had. She was no more help than they at discerning the meaning of it. It had been agreed that along with hiding her from their father, that the second part of the vision, which only came to Faramir, was to be unmentioned as well.

"I should go," Faramir said mournfully, not knowing how long this ordeal with their father would take, for he had hoped to show Rapunzel his mother's garden later that evening, as a sort of escape from the confines of her bedchamber.

Seeing his brother's pained expression, Boromir offered, "I shall stay with her brother, for I wish to think on happier things, and the maid has a pre-chant to calm any mood. I dare say she could even calm a fire-drake."

Know that his, _no_ the lady was in safe with his brother, Faramir departed swiftly but with a heavy heart.

Boromir smiled kindly at Rapunzel, "Fair maiden, while my company is not that which you seek foremost, would I be right in saying you would not be opposed to a little adventure within these walls?"

Rapunzel smiled shyly back, unsure of if this was wise and unable to ask the opinion of the one she most wished to be with. But she trusted him, and a little adventure never hurt anyone.

Finding her one of Faramir's older cloaks, they snuck through the servant passages and hidden doorways of the citadel to they came to a very disused part. Pulling aside a worn tapestry, Boromir revealed an old oak door, with a padlock on it. Pulling a leather cord from his neck, he placed it and the pendant upon it in Rapunzel's hand. As her fingers wrapped around it, she felt the cold form of iron, and quickly looked down. It was a key.

Boromir simply nodded to the door, a smirk on his face. She tentatively slid the key into the lock, and turned it, with less force than she expected from such an old door. It swung open revealing a well-kept personal library. The scent of parchment and musk wafted through the open archway.

"It's not much, but this is where Faramir spends— spent most of his time before he met you, when he wasn't off at battle."

A huge smile lit up Rapunzel's face. _Books._

Boromir left her there and went down to the training grounds, secure in the fact that only one other alive had the key and knew of the location of this room, Faramir. Thinking to his brother, he realized it had been several hours since he had last been with Rapunzel, and so sent a young guard to find the whereabouts of his brother.

Rapunzel soon became immersed in the multitude of volumes of literature surrounding her, and quickly lost all sense of time. So oblivious was she that when a voice softly called her name from close behind her, that she lost her grip on the book in her lap. Masculine hands reached around her and caught the book before it tumbled to the ground.

"I did not mean to startle you, my lady."

Rapunzel blushed at the warmth radiating rom the arms around her, unwilling to turn around and become trapped in his - Faramir's - embrace. Taking the book hastily from his grasp, she move out of his reach to return it to its proper place.

"Rapunzel?" So much was left unsaid in his simple question, and she paused, unsure of how to respond.

"What are your new orders?" She asked, with her back still to the young captain.

"My father has seen fit to order to return to Osgiliath and defend the western shore against invaders."

"When do you leave?"

"The day after next."

For a long time, both stood in an awkward silence. Drawing all of her courage, Rapunzel turned and flung herself into Faramir's arms. The sudden movement startled him, but he quickly gathered her small form into his arms. Hesitantly Faramir's bent down and place a kiss firmly on the crown of her golden head. 'I have to find a way to keep you safe.'

* * *

Author's Note: Thank for reading the prologue of what will be a three stories series following the plot of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Ring's Trilogy, with the addition of select Walt Disney princesses, to be revealed over the course of the three stories.

The timeline of the plot will be a generous mixture of both book-lore and film screen play, with smatterings of Disney plots from the corresponding princesses' films. This story will not attempt to totally rewrite the events of the War of the Ring, only the inclusion of nonCanon LOTRs characters who disrupt and change the event immediately surrounding them.

While the plot and timeline is already planned out, as are the romantic pairings for these stories. Updates will hopefully be once a month, however they will be long. If you have any questions, or suggestion, feel free to message me, and my co-writer and I will respond when we have available time.


	2. The Frozen One

Chapter One: The Frozen One

As the Company climbed higher upon the snow covered pass, the air grew more tense and the wind began to swirl around them furiously. Legolas walked atop the snow as a scout of sorts — for he was the only member to be mainly unaffected by the cold and wind. Light was he on his feet, but even he was finding some difficulty foraging through the blizzard. His elven ears picked up words upon the air — a woman's voice. She sounded sad and in great personal turmoil. As the words reached their crescendo, the storm swelled to a peak and the company was buried under an avalanche.

Legolas was the first to emerge from the snow — his eyes quickly scanned the surrounding area to account for his fellow companions. Eight, he counted — no, nine. Another from, still and white lay almost on top of him, face down. Quickly, the elven prince shifted the snow away from the figure he now perceived to be a woman. Her skin was as white as snow, and just as cold to the touch. He would have thought her dead, if not for her shallow breathing.

Around him, his senses told him that Aragorn and Boromir had helped extract the hobbits and the dwarf, but something pulled him to this unconscious woman. How strange.

Gandalf had also freed himself and was making his way over to the woodland prince, perceiving a shift in his demeanor.

"Is there something amiss?"

"Gandalf, she is cold to the touch. Can your magic warm her?"

If the wizard was shocked by this strange and unexpected arrival, his expression didn't show it. Taking her hands in one of his weathered ones, he closed his eyes and the feel of great power went out from him.

Her breathing steadied, but she did not wake, nor did her skin flush with life. Gathering her firmly into his arms, Legolas wadded in the snow, following the company backdown the mountain, as Aragorn had taken charge of the direction of the Fellowship in this moment.

It was nightfall when they stopped, cowering in an outcropping of rocks which formed a sort of half shelter for the company. After some complaining and cajoling, Gandalf lit a fire with his magic, a complaint of his own under his breath. Legolas held the woman close to the fire, hoping to warm her enough to wake. Gandalf had counseled him that she was healthy and that her unconsciousness was due to an exhaustion. What type, the old man would not say, but a twinkle in his eye bespoke to his knowledge of something about her.

Aragorn took the first watch, and as the hobbits huddled in their bed-rolls very close together, the ragged Ranger sat next to his elven friend.

"I never thought I would live to see that day that Legolas Greenleaf, crown prince of the Greenwood, would be thus smitten with one of the fairer sex." He smirked, knowing that his teasing would cause a reaction in his friend; women had always thrown themselves at the fair elf. Elladan and Elrohir had taught Aragorn, their foster brother, well in the art of pointed comments and honest teasing. The effect of his words was immediately apparent, Legolas stiffened and glared daggers as sharp as his own twin hunting knives.

The Prince spoke in his mother tongue, as he often did when he was upset. "How could you say such a thing, my friend?"

Aragorn simply smirked wider and raised a single eyebrow; this trick he learned from his foster father, Lord Elrond.

Legolas shifted the woman to the ground, situating her deeply in his bed-roll by the fire. "Get some rest, Estel, I shall scout the area."

"I will watch over her in your absence."

Aragorn moved to sit next to her, dropping his cloak around her a bit, for more protection from the cold wind. The elf gathered his bow and quiver, and walked off across the snow top. His distracted mind apparent in the barely noticeable footprints upon the grounds surface. Shaking his head, the Ranger diverted his eyes to the maiden that had his friend so enamored.

About the midnight hour Aragorn was started awake; he could sense something was amiss. Pulling his sword from its scabbard, he rose and strode to the perimeter. Legolas should have returned by now. Though his eyes are not as keen as that of an elf, the gifts of his forefathers ran strong in his veins, and he could make out shapes slinking in the dark shadows, out of reach of the light from their meager fire.

So as not to startle the little ones, Aragorn roused Boromir and Gimli; Gandalf was already aware of the situation developing. The only waring they received was the whistle of an arrow faintly, and the muffled thud of a form crumpling into the snow. Legolas had returned. In the minutes that followed, wargs began to attack in small numbers. The hobbits huddled in terror around the fire, close the unconscious form that kept drawing the elven prince's eyes.

The wargs began to become emboldened by lack of offensive retaliation and suddenly the attacks came at the company in full force. Gandalf covered the hobbits as best he could with his sword and staff, but one lone warg, slipped passed the defensive line they had formed. A snarl followed by cracking of ice, drew Legolas and Aragorn's attention from remaining beasts. In the confusion and uproar of the the fight, it seemed as if their unconscious addition had awoken. Legolas froze in shock at the sight before him. Her arms where flung in front of her in a purely defensive posture, her eyes shut tightly. But the attack from the rogue animal never came, for ice crystals had swept up from the very ground, incasing and piercing the animal in mid-jump. Legolas took a step towards the female, who had opened her eyes briefly before collapsing again into a heap by the fire.

The dwarf and Aragorn quickly finished off the remaining animals. Gandalf went to the hobbits, inspecting them, since a stray attacker had gotten so close to the Company — to the Ring-bearer. Legolas scooped up the once again unconscious woman, and began to inspect her for an sign of injury. Amazingly there were none. After Aragorn reassured him that she was safe, they turned their attention to the truly terrifying sight of her would-be attacker.

What ever magic or devilry had saved her, they had neither seen nor heard of anything to the likes before. When questioning Gandalf if he had performed this hitherto unheard of feat, the old man shook his head, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he turned his gaze toward the young maiden.

With every thought of peaceful sleep driven from the Company's minds, they pressed on, as the light of new dawn spread over the sky. Legolas gathered the woman back in his arm, and took up point alongside Aragorn, with Gandalf at the rear with the hobbits, to make sure they didn't lag behind. By the time the day had passed, they had reached the Eastern gates of Moria. The stars where veiled and Legolas felt an eery presence, similar to the dark areas of his homeland. Setting the woman close to Gandalf, he quietly told Aragorn of this feeling, which the Ranger confirmed that he also had noticed. The hobbits, Merry and Pippin quickly grew tired of Gandalf's search for the gate's password, and gathered small stones together, throwing and skipping them on the pond's stagnant surface. Legolas felt uneasy about leaving her for very long, and went back to her unconscious figure, guarding her. Why and against what, the elf prince did not know.

It seemed like hours, when the Ring-bearer asked a simple question, which started a chain of events which would force the hand of this small band of travelers. With the doorway open, their journey continued again, only for the company to be attacked yet again. The resulting skirmish ended with the destruction of the Eastern gate was no great relief, for while they had survived the watcher within the lake, it seemed that an even greater peril lay before them.

The halls of Durin where magnificent in their craftsmanship and splendor, yet a darkness hovered of the company as they encountered the remnants of battle. Dwarven skeletons littered the floor in places, struct down by an enemy of the deep, mountain Goblins. For three days the company traveled by the light of a wizard's staff, and the faint shimmer of gems and metal shattered and forgotten. During this time, Legolas kept his vigilant guard over the still unconscious woman, as well as over the little ones. The dwarf was oddly silent but perhaps, when faced with such brutal distraction of a place one's kin called home, it was warranted.

It was on the morning of the fourth day, that daylight was seen, through a high and narrow window, but it was enough to draw the band of ragged travelers in. There they found the tomb of Gimli's kin and the leader of the slain dwarves. Balin, one of the thirteen dwarfs who had reclaimed Erebor from dragon, orc, man and elf, lay dead.

As the dwarf morned his fallen kin, several other things began to take place almost simultaneously. Gandalf began to read from the ledger of Orin, another of the thirteen. In it's last few pages, a grizzly account of the final events was painted for the present company. Not chilled by the harrowing tale, Peregrin Took became fascinated with the figure of a fallen dwarf, on who was precariously perched upon a stone well. At the slightest touch, the remains pitched into the depths of the ancient cistern, piercing the silence with deafening clangs of armor crashing against hune stone.

While the rest of the company fixed their attention upon the meddling halfling, Legolas' keen ears picked up the change in breathing of his charge. Turning his keen elf sight to the young woman who he had been so anxious about for the last several day, he say that her eyes where open, and staring up at him in silent fascination.

They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, but another sound soon fought for the prince's attention. A low thud, from deep in the mountain filled the dank air of the tomb, striking a chill into the very bones of those who heard it. The mountain was coming alive again, and it was not a friendly force that would soon be meeting them.

Gandalf takes charge, glancing at both Aragorn and Legolas, who understand that a battle is about to begin, one they cannot hope to win, only flee from in a hope to escape to the safety to the outside world. The men and elf work together to brace the entrance door, in an attempt to give them a change hold off the advancing forces.

Legolas saw Gandalf speaking with the young woman in a language that he was unfamiliar with, and she responded with a fierceness that surprised the elf lord; it seemed she would fight. Positioning himself near her, he drew his first arrow and trained his superior eye sight on the barricaded door.

The battle that followed was not one of legend, for as all warriors know, those told in legend are rarely as wondrous as the retelling. It was dirty and brutal. Finally the dark forces seemed to draw back, only for another foe to take their place, a being so dark and evil that the elf felt fear like never before. Gandalf ordered the company to retreat through the small door to the back of the chamber, before muttering in a long forgotten tongue. Legolas watched for a split second at the doorway shimmer, and the air filled with power that spoke of age and wisdom.

The flight from the tomb led the company into a large hall, with a chasm in the middle, now separating the company from their foe, however temporarily, for soon the cave trolls had made a crude bridge for a true evil to advance upon them.

"Balrog", Legolas breathed, shock and fear striking at his heart. Few things did an immortal fear, but this demon of fire held a special place of fear among his kin. An elf lord of the first age had even battled such a beast, to the death, and only by the grace of the Valor has been restored.

The Company emerged from the mountain side, their hearts heavy and spirits almost broken.

Gandalf had fallen.

The hobbits gathered together, tears streaming down their face. The men frozen in their shock. Gimli raged mightily as his heart warred between vengeance and grief. Only the elf prince showed nothing, but he felt a burning in his heart that blazed as hot at the fire of that cursed beast.

The woman stood tall and proud, her fist clenched. Legolas marveled at her gift, yet even something so powerful failed to save their leader. When Aragorn called for the remaining members of their once strong fellowship to rise, the elf scouted ahead trusting his friend and brother in arms to watch over the rest. Lorien was their only safe haven, for when dusk fell the goblins of the mountain deep would crawl out from the darkness they where born into and seek to destroy them.

What remained for the Fellowship trudged toward the looming safety of Lorien with heavy hearts. Legolas lagged behind to Hurd the bereft hobbits, as well as to carry a physically exhausted Elsa. Though her body may have failed her, the elven prince marveled at her fortitude. Few mortals, Aragorn excluded, showed such inner strength and it drew him even more to her.

The forest acted as a buffer; away from the harsh rock and dark places, the sorrow seemed to turn to an ache of remembering. At a stream they halted for water and a short rest-bit. Elsa refused comfort and simply sat facing the direction from which they came. When Aragorn called the company to continue, she refused again to be carried, saying that she was no higher nor more need than the others. She remained at the back, helping heard the young ones but Legolas noticed her steps frosted the ground and faded behind her.

Ahead of them, Gimli could be heard spouting off his dwarfish misconceptions about the Lady of the Wood. The short started warrior's ears had yet to catch the step of elven feet flitting around him. One step sounded heavier than that of an elf, and it put Prince on edge.

"The dwarf breaths so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

The Company abruptly halted at those words and Elsa tensed, causing the temperature around her to slowly drop. Seeking to advert an incident, Legolas stepped forward, after making contact with Aragorn, and began speaking in his native tongue.

"Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien."

"Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion. Mani tyara lle enterien ve' sina a' these vanya ndor, leadien amarth e' lle sai- dal vano."

While only Aragorn and the Prince could understand the words, their meaning transcended language. Gimli spit and muttered in dwarfish, Boromir's expression darkened while Frodo looked stricken and fearful. Elsa saw this as a threat and took action. Placing herself in front of the Ring Bearer, she drew herself up. Standing toe to toe with the March Warden of the Golden Wood, she seemed to take on an almost regal quality, something similar to when Aragorn asserted his authority.

"You will give up shelter, food and provisions, so that we can leave this place, as to not leave a stain on your woods."

Silence reigned supreme after those words, never had any one spoken to the March Warden thus, much less a mortal woman. A small laugh, like a bubbling brook, broke the silence drawing everyone's attention. It came from a figure to the left of the March Warden, of shorter stature and thinner frame.

The sound cause Elsa to relax, which was out of character, and a small smile spread over her face.

"Hello Anna."

— three months previous —

Even in the coldest part of winter, no frost would breach the boarders of the Golden Wood for the powers of the Lady staved off cold and snow. Magic, strong and danger would be the only reason for such an occurrence with in the boarders. A summons from the Lady was not uncommon but to be singularly assigned a task was an honour.

Haldir cautiously ventured into the frost covered glade; the feeling of powerful sorcery lingered in the air around him, yet the feeling of death was oddly absent. A body lay at the center of all the cold silence, as if asleep. Drawing an arrow to be cautious, the woodsman inched forward.

"Quena lle essa!"

No response came from the figure, yet his elven ears could pick up faint breathing. Reasoning that his Lady would not send him into a potentially lethal situation without forewarning, Haldir gently removed the cloak hood to reveal brown hair with a streak of white.

Anna opened her eyes, confused as to why she was laying on something so comfortable. Ice was never this comfortable, and she had experienced a lot of contact with ice in the past days. It was soft and warm, and she could hear wind in the leaves and small birds chirping off somewhere. For a second she was confused and thought that the pas. day was a very vivid dream, except her clothes where different, and this was definitely not her bed.

"M'lady" a voice softly drew her attention towards the right side of her bed, where a woman stood.

"I am here to escort you to see the Lady. If you are in need of refreshments, I will gladly bring you some. Should you need help dressing or anything else, I am at your service."

Being used to servants, Anna felt comfortable with requesting help with dressing, especially since the clothes where not the ones that she normally wore, and was thus unfamiliar with the fastening and ties. After requesting some water and fruit, the woman left. The princess decided to use this time to look around the room she was in. It was simple in decorations, but the quality was very fine. Everything seemed to be almost alive. There was no door to the small balcony, only a soft sheet of fabric that partially blocked the light. The windows where the same way. The feeling of openness and freedom was so foreign to the young woman that she felt ready to burst into song or explore every facet of the dwelling. Looking down, she noticed that the room was attached to the side of a very tall tree, with winding staircases running up and down the lenght of it.

When the serving woman returned with a small meal for her to eat, she took more time to asses the woman's features. She was thin, and tall for a woman. Her hair was long and loose but for a few braids sweeping her hair away from her face, exposing her ears which where not rounded at the top but came to a point. Feeling it would be rude to ask about such a physical feature, she restrained herself.

The path they took allowed Anna to see that the room was not simply attached to the side of the large tree but rather a platform that spanned the upper branches of a tree forming a multilayer city of sorts. Anna felt a bit self conscious about her hair, which was down, like the rest of the people she passed, she had never worn her hair so freely.

She was beckoned toward an area that was like a throne room, but instead of fine drapery and gilded, the only ornaments where the chairs themselves, which twisted and intertwined in such an intricate wear that they much have grown that was, but she did not know how that was possible. Standing in the center of the dais stood a woman with long golden flowing hair, who's eyes showed the years that her face belied. She smiled warmly at the young princess, and motioned for her to come closer.

"Come young one; for you have many questions."

Anna timidly walked with the Lady, feeling as if she was talking to her mother, whom she had lost several years before. So many questions where buzzing around her head that she almost didn't know where to start.

"My sister-"

"She is safe, and will be reunited with you after a time, but for her it will not be as long as time as for you."

" I don't understand..."

"All will be explained, but first you must know of the changes to yourself and this new world that you have found yourself in."

"What changes? I remember ice and cold, then blackness and I woke up here."

The Lady had led them to a small sitting room, that over looked a forest of small structures.

"When you where little, your sister and yourself where once close, but something happened to change that."

Anna nodded. "It was just one day that she got her own room, and stopped talking to me. Nothing I tried worked, even when our parents..."

The Lady smiled sadly. "Know that her distance and coldness is not your fault. It was decided that for your... safety and protection, that your memories be altered."

"My memories!?"

"Think back to the day that Elsa stopped talking to you, what do you remember about time, and take your time."

Closing her eyes, the princess of Arendell scrunched up her face and focused past the pain and separation to that last day of fun and sisterly comrodery. At first it was no different than the other times they had played, laughter and snow. Then those memories began to change, and as her mind absorbed the newly unlocked memories, Ana began to understand the struggle and pain her sister must have felt with the forced separation. Lastly, she now knew why she had a strand of white hair, from the accident.

Instinctively Anna reached for the afore mentioned tendrils, she realized that it was no longer white. Questioningly, she looked up at the Lady.

The smile she received made her feel less uneasy with this external change, as did the explanation that followed.

"When you arrived, you where unconscious and where taken to a room of healing, where your body and mind where restored. While the other physical changes of the incident where removed by the trolls, they could not remove it all. My abilities washed away all the influence of your sister's magic."

Anna nodded, unsure how she felt about the change to her person, but glad to have the memories with her sister back. Then realizing she had been talking to a person, without first having an introduction was against all the edicuet that had been drilled into the princess.

"I feel so rude, I don't even know your name, or even thank you for all you have done for me." Her face flushed as she said this.

"It is quite alright child, you had much to know, and new situations can make someone forget many things. I am called Galadriel, the Lady of the Golden Wood, which is call Lothlorien."

"My Lady," Anna lowered her head in respect. Even after so many years of limited contact, some protocol remained.

Galadriel smiled at this, for the young princess reminded her very much of her daughter, who now resided in the Undying Lands across the sea. Long had it been since she had such a kind spirit to mentor and teach. Her own granddaughter, while very beautiful like her mother, took after her father in temperament leading her to be harder to reach and at times too headstrong for her own good. There was much she had to show this young sapling, of not only her destiny but also the changes she, her sister and cousins would bring to the realm.


	3. The Heart of the Matter

Chapter 2: The Heart of the Matter

As the Company made their way through the Forest of Lorien, Elsa used that time to converse with her sister. Everyone in the company was shocked at the revelation, but what was even more astounding, was the change in Elsa. For now, the shadow in her eyes had receded and she seemed to transform into a young and vibrant woman.

Merry and Pippen gravitated toward Anna, finding her smile contagious and the whole spirit of the broken Fellowship was lifted. Legolas kept an eye on the sisters from the front of the group. Boromir brought up the rear, occasionally having to herd an irate dwarf. His eyes kept straying to the auburn haired maiden, who acted like no woman he had ever met. The contract between her and Elsa was obvious at first look, but on closer inspection gave way to their shared laughs and smiles. Her hair was down, tied back like an elf, and she dressed in hunting clothing. When he first saw her, he mistook her for an elf, for her mannerism and light step spoke of a noble upbringing, which put every female courtier he had ever had the displeasure to meet.

Frodo felt drawn to the elder sister, grateful for her silent defense of him. She had become an unspoken protector, like Strider. Her smiles warmed his heart, for as much as he blamed himself for Gandalf's fall; she had done all she could to save him. The woods around him whispered strange things, speaking to his very soul and helping ease his guilt.

Haldir lead them to an outpost for the guard on the western front. The women shared a room, as did the four halfings, leaving the men and still very irate dwarf. Legolas insisted on helping keep watch, with his brothers in arms. Gimli begrudgingly at the greens and bread offered, which was only chased with water, and promptly took a bedroll murmuring in Khuzdul until he feel asleep. The only difference in his sleep was that it was snoring instead of complaining.

From his seat on the edge of the platform landing, Boromir could not help but hear the conversation between sisters.

"Your hair..."

"When I was found, they healed me. I remember everything."

"Anna, I am so sor-"

"It was not your fault, we were children, and I was as much to blame as you."

"But I still left you alone and you needed me, especially after..."

"I could have tried harder. You had all the expectations of our parents on you, adding to that hiding your powers; raising a younger sister was something I would never ask of you."

There was a pause for a second.

"When did you get so wise? Last, I remember you were trying to marry someone you had only met for not even a day. However, that sandwiches and ice cream would be acceptable for the wedding reception of the Crown Princess of Arendell.

"Learning from the Lady Galadriel has helped; she is a lot like mother was. You also forget I have spent the past three months becoming reacquainted with our childhood secret. Time and reflection helped me see that I need to be a better sister and take my status more seriously."

"So no more trying to marry the next man that catches your fancy?"

"ELSA!"

Feeling he had intruded enough, Boromir decided to turn in for the evening.

The elves roused early that next day, and the hobbits where the last to rise. The trek through the forest continued to a point, until Haldir stopped the company as they came to a small bridge.

Speaking in the Common Tongue, he addressed all.

"From this point on, none but elf-kind and those favored by the Lady may see the path we travel. You shall be blindfolded and lead to the outskirts of the citadel."

Gimli again made a fuss over the blatant discrimination, so much so that Legolas volunteered to walk blindfolded as well. Anna did not speak up as to her exemption, and included herself into those who were sightless. When everyone was lined up and instructed to hold onto the leading rope, their trek continued onwards.

Being sightless slowed their progress, and the lack of stimulating surroundings to distract them from the passage of time. Aragorn silently passed apples to the hobbits as their little stomachs rumbled. Anna giggled, and from behind her, Boromir smiled at her appreciate of the little things. Truly, the small ones brought joy and laughter with them, and for that, the Gondorian warrior was glad.

Finally, the Company reached the forest citadel, which was just as magnificent as Rivendell. The winding staircases allowed an unobstructed view of the many platforms and rooms built into the sides of the great trees. As they reached the highest point of the citadel, Anna slipped to the back of the group quietly. Only Elsa and Boromir noticed her shift in demeanor.

As Celeborn questioned the broken Company of their loss, Galadriel's eyes met each individually. Only Aragorn, Legolas and Elsa where able to return her gaze, for it was as if she looked into your very soul.

After a time, the group was lead to their accommodations and allowed to rest or wander as they pleased. The hobbits immediately took to the food, enjoying much more than they had during their travels. Gimli took two large plates and left for his tent, unhappy with the lack of a cave or underground dwelling. Anna led her sister to the bathhouse, allowing her to wash away the grim and dirt that had accumulated in her trek under the mountain. When the Queen immerged, she saw that her sister had left her a long tunic dress with sturdy legging and a light but durable pair of elven boots. While she was unused to wearing such clothes, the practicality of them outweighed her sense of propriety.

Once dressed, she set out to explore the forest around her, eventually finding herself in a small garden grove, through which a stream ran. After glancing to make sure she was alone, Elsa closed her eyes and focused her powers. When she opened her eyes there was a light misting of snow raining down on the area, disappearing bear it touched the ground.

"You have an amazing gift, young queen."

Spinning around in shock, Elsa came face to face with the Lady of the Golden Wood, Galadriel.

"Forgive me, my Lady, for I did not know..."

"Use of magic is not forbidden here, for it is as much the life blood of this realm as is air or water."

Galadriel raised her left hand, palm spread upwards and a soft light began to form above her palm. Elsa blinked in surprise. "Come with me, for there is much to see."

Following the Lady a short distance away, they came to a hidden grove that held a stone pedestal. Upon it rested a silver bowl and pitcher, filled with water so pure that is sparkled like the stars in the sky. Galadriel poured the water into the bowl, and bade Elsa look into it.

"This mirror shows many things to many people. It knows neither the boundaries of time nor the limits of choice. What can be see within can be of great wisdom or a dire warning."

Hesitantly Elsa stood upon the platform and gazed into the water. For a second she simply saw her reflection, but when she looked closer, she saw minor differences. Her hair was down, and there was a singe streak of auburn. Around her neck hung a beautiful flower-like pendant, which gave off a soft light. In addition, there was someone with her, but she could not make out his face, simply that it was a man, who was holding her very intimately.

Suddenly the vision in the mirror shifted to the frozen ford of Arendell. She watched helplessly as Anna made her way across the distance between herself and Hans, who was standing with his sword drawn and ready to strike her. Anna was shivering, even bundled up as she was and her hair was almost pure white. Just as she got between the blade and her form, Elsa saw her sister turn to pure ice, and her own figure broke down at Anna's frozen feet.

Sharply she pulled herself away from the mirror, tears in her eyes. Around her, snow flurries began to circulate, and she shut her eyes trying to control the multitude of conflicting emotions. Not understanding what she had seen, she fled the grove and quickly became lost as she wandered aimlessly, trying to reign in her emotions.

A warm hand on her shoulder made the Queen turn sharply, hands raised to strike, until she realized who it was.

"Forgive me, my lady, I should not have startled you, but you did not respond to my calls."

"You are forgiven. I was lost in my own thoughts."

Looking away from him, she focused on the bark of the nearest tree, trying to memorize the pattern in an attempt to block out the unwanted revelations that the mirror had shown her.

"What ails you, fair lady?'

Unused to anyone caring for her, it took Elsa a moment to figure out how to answer him. Having spent most of her life isolate and holding a strict control over her emotions, the young woman was at a loss of where to start. Her reunion of her sister had revealed to her that isolation was no friend.

Suddenly the words that Gandalf had spoken to her that first night in the mines came back to her.

_There will come a time where you will stand on the edge of despair. In that time, hold to hope, for there will always be another who will share your pain and deliver you from that depression. It is not your burden to bear alone._

Taking a slow breath, Elsa decided for the first time in a long time to open herself up to another person.

"I spoke with the Lady Galadriel, and she showed me things, many things. It created more questions than answers."

Legolas nodded his head, in silent understanding, waiting for her to continue.

"All my life I have been taught to conceal my powers and my emotions, and to never show how I truly feel; my father thought it would save me from the darkness that my powers held, but in the end all it succeeded in doing was distance my family."

"Sometimes parents do what they think is best for their children, but it is not always the right thing."

Elsa looked up that the tall Wood Elf, surprised at his reciprocal openness.

"My father changed after my mother died in an orc attack. He became cold and distant, and cut our kingdom off from others. Many people suffered from that decision. That does not mean he had bad intentions, or meant what happened. Hardship changes a person. There are times that one must examine for themselves the choices before them, rather than just accept the counsel of their elders as absolute truth."

"Your father is a King?" Elsa was surprised that a Prince of a realm would undertake such a quest, when it did not directly affect him.

"Your father does not approve of your part in this quest."

The Prince let out a dry chuckle. "No, He would rather I stay within the borders of my homeland and leave the affairs of men and dwarfs to their kind. Nevertheless, in my years of travel with Aragorn, I have come to see that we are not separate from the world simply because we are different. All people will share the same fate if we do nothing to change it."

Elsa nodded, and for the first time saw fire and conviction shine through the facade that Legolas wore. It was much the same as in hers. She looked down at her hand, realizing that out of habit they were covered with gloves. _Anna_.

Legolas noticed the shift in her gaze. "We all have masks."

The remainder of the afternoon, they spent in silence walking through the woods.

Elsewhere in the wood, Anna was enjoying her time with the two younger hobbits. They had taken it upon themselves to educate her on all the events that the Company had experience, their life in the Shire and anything else that popped into their mind. Boromir kept a respective distance, but was drawn into the conversation when the halfings batted him into sparring with them.

Anna looked on with mirth in her eyes.

"Anna, join us." Pippin said after a few minutes of not being able to take down the much taller man.

Before she could even protest, Aragorn, who has appeared without anyone noticing or could have possibly, been there the entire time, offered up his sword for the lady to use.

Realizing the potential for entertainment, Merry and Pippin stood down and sheathed their weapons.

Taking the offered sword, Anna assumed a defensible stance and waited. Boromir was hesitant to fight a woman, and a princess as that, but since she was willing, he made the first more. This proved to be a mistake for she fought back with as much skill and fire as any of the men under his command at the White City. If he was being completely honest with himself, her skill was more than his own was; it was only his size and strength that evened them out.

Their sparring match lasted five minutes, until Boromir overpowered one of Anna's blocks and disarmed her. However, it was not the Gondorian warrior that reigned triumphant. In a move so fast, the princess dropped into a crouch, spinning around her leg out as she did this. Before he knew what was happening, Boromir's legs where kicked out from under him and his sword arm pinned by a foot and a small dart at his throat.

"Best two out of three?" Anna said with a cheeky grin on her face.

Behind her, the hobbits where snickering and Aragorn smirked from behind his pipe.

"Nay, my Lady, for I fear I would suffer another defeat at your very capable hands."

Anna nodded, with a smile and returned the borrowed blade.

"Tis a remarkable weapon. Thank you, my Lord for the use of it."

Aragorn did not respond outwardly to the recognition of his lineage, save the raising of an eyebrow; few had ever seen through the carefully constructed Ranger facade.

Boromir was even more intrigued by the skill of this young woman, who could be nor more than five and twenty. When the halfings ambled off in search of food to pilfer, he took advantage of an opportunity.

"My Lady, would you care to walk a bit with me, for I have not seen much of this fair wood."

Anna took his offered arm, and led him away from the clearing where the company was encamped.

"Where would you like to venture? There is so much to see. The stables, their hall of healing is so peaceful, the kitchens, the gardens-"

Boromir chuckled at her rambling. "What is your favorite place to visit?"

The young princess thought for a moment and then a bright smile lit up her face. In a burst of energy, she began to pull Boromir's arm enthusiastically.

A few minutes later, they came to a hidden grove, the same place that Elsa had been fled for fear of what she saw. Pouring the water carefully Anna explained the powers of the mirror.

"This water can show you some many things, be it is nothing to be afraid of. The future is not set in stone, and the possibilities all hinge on your own actions. Have a look."

She smiled gently and gestured for him to lean over the basin and sat on the nearby bench, to observe him. The past three months in Lorien had given her the chance to see more interactions and displays of emotions, leading her to realize that Hans would not have made her truly happy in the end. A relationship needed to be built on common ground, equality, and more than surface feeling or appearances. While Boromir shared similarities with the youngest prince of the Southern Isles, that is where the similarities ended. Deciding to enjoy the beautiful day, she started humming to herself as she listened to the wind whisper songs through the leaves.

When Boromir gazed into the mirror, he saw himself over the past few months, and for the first time realized the shadow of darkness that had tried to take hold of him. His lashing out at others and the drive to bring the Ring of Power to his father; those instances where not his will, but the evil of Sauron trying to control and corrupt his spirit. This revelation shocked the Gondorian warrior to the core.

Finally, the Mirror shifted to a confrontation in woods with Frodo. This must be a future vision for he remembered neither the place nor the encounter. It blurred to a fearsome fight in the woods, with black orcs with a white hand marking attacking him, as he protected Merry and Pippin. Suddenly he was shot with a thick black arrow, and then another, and another. It was the fourth arrow that finally took him down. The scene blurred again, and he saw himself in a small boat, sailing down a river; dead.

Shaken by what he had just witnessed, he was tempted to pull away, but a small voice said to wait. More imagines came to the surface. He saw himself, alive and riding towards Minas Tireth. There he was greeted by his brother, Faramir. Again, it shifted, to a horse racing towards the city, dragging its rider. Then upon a pier, with his father pouring oil down upon himself, lay an unmoving Faramir. Flames began to lick at the base, just as he saw his brother's eyes open.

Then there was a flash of light and he saw Rivendell. Laughter could be heard and the pattering of little feet. He saw himself, simply dressed and more at peace than he had ever been since his mother's passing, chasing two small children. Off to the side, stood a woman, laughing and her face seemed familiar. Before he could see anymore, the voice he had heard before whispered to him again, saying that it was not yet time to know such things.

The man, who had looked into the waters of Galadriel, was not the same man who stepped away. While the negative and gruesome images of death haunted him, it was the realization of his own past actions that shook him to the core. However, before he gave into despair, the hope that those visions showed broke through his cloud of depression like a beacon in the night.

In that moment, Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, vowed to be the man his people needed him to be, of die trying.


	4. Chapter 4 Part 1: Broken but Reforged

**AN**: Much of the dialogue of this chapter will be a blend of both film and book. I do not own content of either.

**Chapter 4 Part 1: Broken but Reforged**

Fall has set in upon the plains of Rohan; the grass grew coarse and yellowed, and the leaves turned to bright colors of red and gold. The harvest season was upon the fields, and while crops where a plenty; war and darkness sought to consume the lands. Deep in the forest of Fangorn, a woman furiously fought her way through the undergrowth and snarled roots of the old trees.

"Glaikit cuddie." She muttered repeatedly as she trudged on, tugging at her skirt and pulling leaves and other debris from her thick red locks. Today was her nineteenth birthday, and as usual, she had rode out at first light. Losing herself in the shadows of the woods that surrounded her father's castle, the young princess became one with nature.

The first year her father had gifted to her a horse of her own, the young girl had rode out as a way to escape. Being the oldest daughter of a very powerful clan put certain expectations on her position and role in the realm. The contrast between the strictness of her proper mother and her own carefree unladylike behavior caused many a fight between them. How to dress, what to say, and when to speak all seemed to only push down who she really way. She wasn't some pretty doll to be dressed and forced to perform for other.

That all changed when her actions almost brought about the death of her mother and the loss of her three younger brothers. That single event defined how she saw herself. Family was everything to her, and regardless of the distance between them, a mother would always love and protect a daughter. As time went on, she began to mature in her ways of thinking, and realized that she did not have to stop being who she was, rather, the lessons of her mother would help her to become a stronger woman, and ultimately a great ruler one day.

However, that was not to say that her temper or her mouth did not get the best of her at times. She was after all, her father's daughter. Such was the case currently, as she wound her way to the edge of the forest. With her horse not in sight, she took careful stock of the sun's position, hiked up her skirt and made for the South on foot. In her frustration, she failed to notice a company of horsemen approaching her from a distance until she heard the loud thunder of hooves.

"Halt and identify yourself."

With a splitting headache and an aching backside, the fiery young woman was in no mood to deal with hunting parties and men in general. So she just kept walking.

"Stop!"

When she refused to comply, or even acknowledge, the lead horseman pulled his mount in front of her, forcing her to stop.

"You will identify yourself and state your business, or I will forcibly escort you before the King."

"Seein' as ye huvnae bin forthcomin' wi' yer ain nam, whit incentife diz 'at gie a quine loch me?"

The horseman dismounted and removed his helm, revealing a thick mane of dirty blond hair and a fierce expression on his face. Having grown up with a very blunt father, the young woman was more than capable with standing toe to toe with anyone without flinching. After a moment, the rider's expression softened and he stepped back, bowing his head as a sign of deference to her.

"My apologies, milady, but it is strange to see a woman alone and on foot, on the open plains."

"Ah can assure ye, Ah can tak' caur ay myself." She turned and began walking away, once again to the south.

"At least let me offer you a horse." Eomér whistled and another rider attempted to bring up a horse by the sound of it. A sharp whinny made the woman turn and smile brightly.

"Angus." When the obstinate horse heard the call of its rider, he shook the reigns free from the startled rider and pranced merrily over to her.

As the horsewoman became reacquainted with her mount, Eomér reevaluated his opinions of the lady.

"Whaur did ye rin aff tae, silly cuddie? it wisnae braw tae flin' me aff, efter aw we hae bin ben, a wee st'rm is naethin'." Angus neighed petulantly and hung his head, as if he was a dog being chastised for filching scraps from the table.

"He was found skittishly running around the fields to the north. My men had a hard time calming him down enough for him to be handled."

The woman nodded in acknowledgement, "He can be a wee bit o an ass sometimes."

Trying to recover himself, and act more like a gentleman, he offered her a compromise. "Allow my company to escort you to our citadel, for shelter for the night. I cannot in good conscious allow you to roam these plains, while evil lurks close."

She nodded after a nudge from Angus and turned to him. "Ah dornt expect tae be treated loch a high quine, wi' airs an' graces."

A booming laugh came from Eomér, as well as some of the men.

"Lady, you would be the first tome make such a request. However, I will personally guarantee that I and my men will treat you no different than any other rider."

The lady launched herself into Angus' saddle, and pulled at the reigns to guide him next to Eomér.

"Noo 'at we hae aw 'at settled, can we start again? Whit is yer nam an' frae whaur dae ye hail?"

"I am Eomér, son of Éomund, Third Marshall of the Riddermark. Pray what is yours, M'Lady?"

"Ah am Merida, dochter ay Fergus, kin' ay th' DunBroch clan."

* * *

In the southern hills, near the river Andiun and just north of the Falls, a varied Company stopped in their pursuit.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, lay upon the stony ground with his eyes closed and ear pressed to the ground, listening. Suddenly, he opens his eyes.

"Their pace has quickened. They must have caught our scent, hurry!"

He resumed his run northward, followed by Legolas who called out for Gimli to follow. Elsa tarried to make sure Anna was still only unconscious, and nodded to Boromir to show her appreciate of his physical sacrifice. The Gondorian warrior remained silent and merely shifted the weight of the unconscious woman in his arms, as he took up the trail as well. His shoulder still had a slight twinge, yet he refused to show it or offer his burden to another, for he felt a strong tie to the young princess for her brave and selfless act. It was a miracle that he was alive, and thinking back he marveled at how the fates had been kind to him.

After he had been shot, repeatedly, the Gondorian warrior lay in a daze as the lifeblood spilled from his body and stained the leaves and earth below him. His last words to Aragorn where sincere and accepting of his fate. Try as he might to change his fate, he was going to die. Then an light filled his vision and at the center of it was an angel. Tears in her eyes, disregarding her own pain, she reached out to him and suddenly life began to enter his body, it seemed from the very earth. Within minutes, Boromir felt healthier and fitter than he had ever felt before. When the light received, Anna was slumped against the tree next to him, unconscious.

After the fractured Company had discovered Frodo and Sam's trek alone to Mordor, while Merry and Pippin had been taken captive by the dark orcs. Not wishing to leave two defenseless members to a fate worse than death, Aragorn made the decision to overtake and reclaim their lost companions. What followed was an unstopping chase over the fields of Rohan, north towards Isengard; for three days and nights, they did not rest and they did not break for a meal. While Aragorn, Elsa and Legolas held the lead, Gimli and Boromir lagged behind, for different reasons.

Once Gimli complained, "I am wasted on cross-country. We dwarves are natural sprinters. Very dangerous over short distances."

Boromir, on the other hand, was physically carrying a small but solid human mass. His new armor was lighter than before, and hopefully would keep him safer than his previous leathers and chain mail. With his second chance, the Steward's son vowed again to be a better man, more so now with Anna's gift. Looking down at the young woman in his arms, he marveled. _I owe her my life, my future. Nothing will ever come close for my repaying her gift._

Through the night they ran, stopping only for water and small bits of lemnes. As the dawning sun rose over the hills, the prince of Mirkwood paused and looked upon the sun with dread.

"A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night."

A grim sense of dread spread through the company and without another word, they continued on the hunt. A short time later, Aragorn paused the company, bid Elsa to take her sister, and hid under their cloak. Mere seconds passed and then the thunder of hooves and sounds of horses' neighs where audible for all. As the riders crested the hill and filled the dell, Aragorn rose and allowed his cloak to slip away to reveal his form.

"Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?"

At the sound of his voice, the head horseman signaled the pack with his spear. With astonishing speed and skill, the Rohirrim checked their steeds, wheeled around, and charged Aragorn, who was joined by Legolas, Boromir and Gimli. Together, they watched the Rohirrim approach. The riders circled around the four hunters tightly, suddenly stopped and pointed their spears at them. Aragorn held up his hands in surrender as the lead rider moved forward and addressed them from his steed.

"What business do an Elf, a Dwarf and two Men have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

Before Aragorn could tactfully answer the question, Gimli defiantly boomed.

"Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine."

The lead horseman handed his staff to another rider, and got off his horse. Gimli gives an arrogant nod at the rider's approach and before he could make another comment or move Aragorn put a hand on the dwarf's shoulder to stay him.

The rider's response was just as confrontational. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

In a lightning fast move, Legolas nocked an arrow, and aimed it, unwaveringly, at the rider before them. "You would die before your stroke fell."

In a tense moment, all spears where trained on Legolas. Aragorn placed a hand on his bow and lowered it. "I am called Strider, I have come from the North, and I am hunting a pack of orcs through this land, strange though it may be. For long have these lands been protected by the horse lords of the fields. Nor where visitors treated as foe."

"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe. Not even his own kin." The rider removed his helmet, and faced the group as an equal. At this action, the Rohirrim withdrew their spears.

"There is something strange about your company, Strider.' He bent his clear bright eyes again upon the Ranger. 'That is no name for a Man that you give. Strange too is your raiment; have you sprung out of the grass? How did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?'

'No,' said Aragorn. 'One only of us is an Elf, Legolas of the Woodland Realm Mirkwood. But in our journeys our company did pass through Lothlorien, where the gifts and favour of the Lady go with us.'

A look of surprise with a tinge of awe passed over the Rider's face, before it hardened again. 'Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell!' he said. 'Few escape her nets, they say. But with her favor, you yourselves could be net-weavers and sorcerers, perhaps.'

He turned a cold glance suddenly upon Legolas and Gimli, glancing only briefly at Boromir simply to see that he was a mortal man. 'As for your question, dwarf lord,' said the Rider, staring down at the Dwarf, 'the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Eomer son of Éomund, and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark.'

Finally Boromir spoke, wishing to continue on their quest to discover the fate of their lost companions.

"It has been many months since I passed through your lands, but I have always found the halls of the King to be open and welcoming to all. Pardon our unannounced intrusion into your land. We are in great need, and would ask for help, or at least for tidings. You know that we are pursuing an orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us?'

"That you need not pursue them further," said Eomer. "The Orcs are destroyed."

"And our friends?"

"We found none but Orcs.'

"Were there no bodies other than those of orc-kind? They would be small. Only children to your eyes."

"Nay, our host counted all the slain and despoiled them, and then we piled the carcasses and burned them, as is our custom. The ashes are smoking still."

The companions looked at one another in shock, unable to simply accept that Merry or Pippin where slain.

"Time is pressing," Eomer's words shocked them out of their silent contemplations. "We must hasten south."

Turning back to the four men before him, he seemed to take stock of them again; and whistled. "Hasufel! Arod! Brego!" Two steeds move to the forefront and stopped next to their leader. "I am sorry for your friends. I cannot give you hope but swift feet may help you on your quest, however hopeless it may be. May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farewell."

Brego was a mighty brown stallion and he only allowed Aragorn touch him. Hasufel was a great dark-grey horse, and Boromir took his reigns. The smallest and lighter horse, but restive and fiery, was chosen by Legolas. After the Rohirrim company rode away, leaving behind the three horses behind, Aragorn instructed Elsa to reveal herself. Quickly they decided for Boromir to carry the still unconscious Anna, while Legolas dealt with the hesitant and shifty dwarf. That left Elsa to ride with their leader. The Gondorian warrior, having been to Rohan more recently than Aragorn, took the lead toward the Northern board of Rohan. Afternoon gave way to evening but as before on foot, the broken company rode on through the night. The smell of burning lead then to the smoldering remains left behind the slaughtering attack the Eomer had referenced.

Halting a few feet away, Boromir motioned for Elsa to dismount to attend her sister. He has positioned them upwind of the blackened earth, closer to the looming forest of Fangorn, giving them both minor shelter. As the men searched for traces of their missing hobbits, Elsa observed her sister's breathing. Gradually it changed as Anna stirred for the first time in almost six days.

Getting a skin of water from Hasufel, Elsa offered it to her sister as well as a small bit of lembas bread. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a horse ran me over… again."

Shaking her head, the queen of Arendell smiled down at her younger sister. _Only Anna._

Looking around, Anna realized that her surroundings where different. "How long was I –" She started to ask her sister until her eyes caught sight of Boromir, healthy and alive. Following her sister's gaze, Elsa smiled softly.

"He is alive, thanks to you."

Whipping her head around quickly, the young princess gazed at her sister in disbelief.

"What?! How – "

"Magic must run in the family."

When Aragorn began to track the trail into the woods, Elsa stayed at the edge of the woods with Anna and began to explain the events she had missed. Some of the memories leading up the battle in the forest where still fuzzy with the young princess, but she was more concerned with the fates of their two young companions.

After a time, the four men rejoined the sisters, however they were accompanied by another figure; an old beggar-man, walking wearily, leaning on a rough staff. His hair was white as snow in the sunshine; and gleaming white was his robe; the eyes under his deep brows were bright, piercing as the rays of the sun; power was in his hand. As he walked there was a gleam, too brief for certainty, a quick glint of white, as if some garment shrouded by the grey rags had been for an instant revealed. It was not until he was closer to them, that Elsa recognized the old man.

"Gandalf!"


End file.
